


shining brilliantly, dazzling

by ohvictor



Category: IDOLiSH7 (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 01:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohvictor/pseuds/ohvictor
Summary: Mitsuki catches Yamato listening to a certain solo.





	shining brilliantly, dazzling

**Author's Note:**

> this will eventually become part of a series of yamato-centric fics oriented around various 12 songs gift solos. for now, here is mitsu's piece! the lyrics translation i've used [can be found here](https://ioasaya.tumblr.com/post/175257269143/translations-under-the-cutmore-%E3%81%BE%E3%81%A0%E5%AF%92%E3%81%84%E3%81%AD-%E5%AE%B6%E3%81%AE%E5%A4%96%E3%81%AF). btw, you don't need them to read the fic, but [mitsuki's 12 songs gift rabichas are here](http://osakaso5.tumblr.com/post/174820941763/mitsuki-izumi-12-songs-gift-rabbit-chat-part-1-12)!

Passing by the door of Yamato’s room one night, back from the bathroom to brush his teeth, Mitsuki hears faint music through the crack of the door. That means his boyfriend’s in there, and probably drinking, which already makes Mitsuki want to barge in. But the music sounds sad, and oddly familiar... And the door’s cracked open, not locked.

Curious, Mitsuki nudges the door the rest of the way open. Before he can properly see into the room, though, the music dies abruptly.

Inside the room, Yamato’s curled up on his bed, a remote in his hand and a guilty expression on his face. As soon as Mitsuki makes eye contact with him, he arranges his expression to be more neutral, which just makes him more suspicious.

“Hi, Mitsu,” he starts.

“What were you listening to?” Mitsuki interrupts.

“Nothing,” Yamato says, looking away.

Mitsuki frowns. He stomps into the room and climbs onto Yamato’s bed, reaching across Yamato’s chest for the remote. Yamato scrambles back against the wall, holding the remote up high in one hand.

“Stop,” he whines, shoving Mitsuki with his legs.

Perhaps Yamato, who prefers to control everything from the bed or sofa, forgot that there are other options. Mitsuki retreats off the bed and watches Yamato relax, thinking Mitsuki’s given up (foolish, he should know better). Mitsuki flashes him a wide smile, and then crosses the room to press the power button on Yamato’s stereo.

“Hey!” Yamato squawks, throwing himself across his bed as if that can possibly stop Mitsuki. As he lies facedown in his blankets, the stereo comes back to life, and a song starts playing quietly from its speakers. Now that there’s no door separating him from the sound, Mitsuki recognizes the song immediately.

It’s his own solo, from the 12 SONGS GIFT project.

“Yamato-san,” he murmurs, turning back to look at the bed. Yamato’s face is still planted in the pillows.

The song finishes, and after a moment, restarts. Yamato rolls over and lets out a groan. Now he’s really exposed—not only is he listening to Mitsuki’s solo, but he’s listening to it on _repeat_.

Mitsuki walks back across the room and sits on Yamato’s bed, wriggling until he’s settled into a crevice in the blanket pile. Then he looks expectantly at Yamato, who groans again and covers his head with a pillow.

“It’s comforting, okay,” he says, barely intelligible through layers of fabric and stuffing. “I...like hearing your song when I’m feeling down.”

Wordlessly, Mitsuki readjusts on the bed. Yamato’s curled up by the headboard, so Mitsuki stretches out on the rest of the bed, lying down and resting his head next to Yamato’s.

In the silence between them, Mitsuki’s solo continues to play. The quiet lullaby he recorded months ago is still familiar to him; like everything else he does, he practiced endlessly for the recording and following solo live. He felt almost selfish at the time, treating the song with greater care than some of IDOLiSH7’s group numbers, even though he didn’t even have choreography for the solo live. He had felt insecure about singing alone, worried that without the rest of IDOLiSH7’s voices layered on top of his, everyone would hear his sub-par singing and question why he was an idol in the first place.

When the recording was completed, Mitsuki remembers being scared to listen to it. He’d sung it himself, after all, but it was one thing to sing and another to hear it, with the instrumentation and mixing and everything. He’d even put it off for a while, until enough of his unitmates and friends and fans praised the solo that he bit the bullet and listened to it once through.

Even listening to it, knowing that it had been mixed by incredibly talented professionals and that so many people he respected and loved had raved about it, he wanted to nitpick his own voice, the points where he thought he sounded a little strained, a little flat. But once it was over, he found there were tears in his eyes, and he let himself play it again, and again, until he could truly think, _It’s a beautiful song, and I sound good, too._

And now, with his solo playing quietly through Yamato’s room, Mitsuki can’t help but hum along. When he looks over at Yamato again, he finds Yamato’s watching him, and as their eyes meet, Yamato mouths the lyrics along with the recording.

“ _The brilliant radiance that gave me courage, it slowly etched itself into my heart..._ ”

Tears spring to Mitsuki’s eyes, but he blinks them back quickly, wanting to keep looking at Yamato’s face. But Yamato just smiles up at him, and Mitsuki manages to swallow the lump in his throat.

When the song once again comes to a close, Yamato launches himself up off the pillows, and kisses Mitsuki gently on the lips.

“Ah!” Mitsuki laughs delightedly. Yamato crawls over a lump of blankets and settles next to Mitsuki, tugging his arms out from underneath himself so he can cup Mitsuki’s face. He rubs his thumbs over Mitsuki’s cheeks and kisses him again, tender.

Mitsuki feels like his chest is swelling, filling with warmth like a hot air balloon. He kisses Yamato back, Yamato’s lips chapped but gentle on Mitsuki’s own, and then Yamato turns his head and buries his face in Mitsuki’s shoulder.

“You’re such a sappy old man,” Mitsuki murmurs, freeing one of his hands to stroke Yamato’s hair. “If you were feeling bad, you can come get me, okay? You don’t need to stew in here and listen to my solo...”

“I know,” Yamato mumbles. “I _like_ listening to your solo, though...”

Mitsuki nods. “But you could have the real thing.”

“Sometimes...” Yamato hesitates, thinks, and then mushes his face into Mitsuki’s shoulder. “It’s hard.” He lifts his head, looking blearily at Mitsuki. “But I’ll try.”

That’s all Mitsuki can really ask for, so he smiles and leans in to kiss Yamato again. Around them, his solo plays again, the chorus swelling around them.


End file.
